


In the Sun

by Starlithorizon



Series: In the Sun [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Female Sherlock Holmes, Femlock, Friendship, Gen, they're still bros even if Sherlock's a woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/pseuds/Starlithorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock reflects a bit on her friendship with John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a character study, with a bit of a scene thrown in at the end, or something like that. I dunno, I wanted to try my hand at femlock, and this is what happened.

It was an ordinary January day, with Sherlock Holmes taking up space at Bart's and doing what she did best. Molly was off somewhere in search of coffee—specifically that nice blend that she knew Sherlock liked—which left the lab blessedly quiet. Just the peaceful sounds of the pipette and reactions.

Of course, that peace was short-lived as that one fellow ( _what was his name? Ah, yes, Mike_.) knocked and came right in. She shot him a brief look of annoyance, but her eyes caught on the short blond man with the cane. He looked dull, deadly dull, dull as the rest of them. Not enough to properly distract her.

As he spoke wit his dull voice, alerting her to his doctorly nature, she was busy thinking about the annoyance of a phone that didn't receive any service where it ought. She'd solved the case and needed to alert Lestrade, but her phone was being stupid and she had no desires to leave the lab just yet. This experiment was a bit delicate and was best conducted in an actual lab, rather than her kitchen table.

The annoyance had been—shockingly—breached by the spontaneous generosity of the dull man beside Mike, and she learned some really rather interesting things about him.

Her new flatmate.

After the Pink case ( _what an absurd title that was, only getting more ridiculous as time went on_ ), things had become, strangely enough, _good_. Sherlock Holmes, the woman who didn't have any friends, actually found herself a _friend_! Granted, nearly everyone thought they were shagging, but that didn't matter because they weren't. John had never expected it of her, and it was beautiful. It was one of the many surprising traits that she'd grown to admire greatly. He was far cleverer than he had any right to be, and far braver than she'd expected.

And the kindness. The kindness that so few people had ever shown her in her entire life, it was all hers for the taking. This was never more apparent than the day she found herself in 221B after three long years of horror.

If she had been a man, he would have hit her. But that hug, that embrace that said _I can't believe you're here, I can't believe you're alive, don't let me wake up, what the hell did you do you idiot_ wasn't because she was a woman. It was because she was Sherlock and he was John, and he was the best friend he had ever known. She didn't have to trick herself to believe that he might just feel the same.

Roughly a month after her grand return, John found her stretched out on the sofa in pyjamas and a blue dressing gown, as she was wont to do. She had her hands steepled just under her jaw, eyes shut and searching. That didn't stop John from setting her cup of tea on the table.

"Thank you," she said softly, opening one eye. John beamed, and she grinned in response. His enthusiasm to her little concessions to society was infectious.

He settled into his chair, ready to settle into an easy day at home.

"You're not waiting for a case, are you?" he asked, perhaps a bit wearily. "Cause I'd like to spend the day doing things that _don't_ involve dead bodies, if you don't mind."

Her grin remained.

"What did you have in mind then?"

"Oh, I don't know," John said, running a hand through his hair. "It's nice out today. Perhaps something in the _outside_ world, you know, _outside_."

She opened her other eye and raised an eyebrow. "We spend plenty of time outside."

John sighed heavily. "We spend all of our time outside running, and almost always at night. We never spend time outside when we aren't running to or from something. Come on, Sherlock, let's do something! We can, I dunno, go to the park!"

Sherlock snorted.

"What on earth would we do at the park?"

"What people normally do at the park! You know, walk around and eat ice cream and look at people!"

"That sounds ghastly."

"Right. You've been in this flat for nearly a week straight, you're going to the park. Now, go get dressed, or I will make you go in your pyjamas."

She groaned and rolled gracefully off of the sofa, shooting her friend a dirty look as she headed to her bedroom to change. She might not have much respect for social mores, but she wouldn't be caught _dead_ leaving the flat looking anything less than her best.

* * *

They were sitting on a bench, eating ice cream in the speckled sunlight. Despite her general annoyance at being outside, she tilted her face toward the sun, smiling faintly. John grinned and nudged her in the ribs, earning a raised eyebrow.

"See, I told you this would be nice," he said cheerfully.

Normally, she would have looked at him with disdain, and said that she was having a terrible time and wanted to go home. But today, she was sitting beside her best friend, a cone of strawberry ice cream in her hand, the sunshine warm on her skin.

She smiled at John, just a tiny bit.

"Yes, I suppose you were right," she said. "For once."


End file.
